


Kiss Starts With a K (So does Kill)

by fadingstarlight (Geneveon)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark Harry Potter, Dementors, M/M, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-06-26
Packaged: 2018-06-09 13:28:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6909298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Geneveon/pseuds/fadingstarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom Riddle is fascinated by death, it would only be logical that he's fascinated by dementors as well. In an attempt to reach out to the dementors in Azkaban as allies, Voldemort gets a surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Throwing this random idea up because I felt like it. And goodness, unbeta'ed and no smut. (Most likely in the future, maybe... most likely. How can I resist?)  
> Not sure when/if this will be updated. Any comments/kudos would be appreciated :D Thanks for reading!

As soon as they had stepped on the island, the auror had murmured a spell with shaking hands, failing twice in his attempt before the silvery lines of his patronus came to life.

Azkaban was a miserable fortress rising from the flat plain of the dreary island. Its iron walls were the only buffer against the violent wind and pouring rain. Dark, human like bodies were floating aimlessly near the tall walls, wisps of torn clothing trailing in their wake.

Tom could feel Lucius stiffen in discomfort by his side, no doubt catching sight of the soul sucking monsters that guarded this hell hole.

“T-this way,” the corrupt auror said, casting nervous glances at the floating figures. In front of them, the cat walked carefully, cautious and losing less of its shine the closer they got to the fortress.

The corrupt auror led the Dark Lord and his minion to the entrance, the bright prowling tomcat that was his patronus pacing around them.

He stuttered through some trivial information about Azkaban, informing them quietly in the midst of his tirade that he had only visited the prison once with a senior Auror. The tremble in his voice was very telling, but Tom did not care as long as he accomplished what he had set out to do.

The closer they got to the prison, the closer the dementors drifted in their direction. Tom smirked at how frightened the other two were, shoulders tense and not relaxing one bit even though each approaching dementor turned away, deterred by the patronus.

“Who… exactly are we looking for?” The auror dared to ask. In his hand, he held a crinkled slip of parchment, littered with illegible notes, as well as a very poorly drawn map of the fortress they just entered.

“The Rex,” Lucius answered without taking his eyes off the nearby dementors. His grip tightened on his wand as one got close enough that the rattling sound of its breathing was like an alarm. Its sightless gaze passed over them before it seemed to flinch, gliding away to the side.

There was a squeak, embarrassingly high pitched before the Auror gasped out, “The Rex? Of this group? I thought… thought we were looking for a prisoner!”

Tom leveled him with a piercing gaze even as Lucius scoffed. His follower’s complexion was an unhealthy pale, little beads of sweat gathering at his hairline even though the Malfoy patriarch kept his composure.

“I can’t do this,” the cowardly auror said. By his side, the cat stared at him with translucent eyes, its body starting to fade in and out. “We’d have to go much further into the building… I’ve never been there.” He was starting to breath heavy, panic rising at the thought of venturing farther than he had under the senior auror’s supervision.

“Silence!” Tom hissed as they came around a corner. The already dim light of the prison was even more abysmal the further in they went, but Tom was able to catch a glimpse of the large floating figure. They came to a halt at his back, all eyes upon the scene unfolding before them.

Another figure, a wizard, was slumped against the wall. He was moaning in misery, tears long since dried but the tracks were still visible on his sweat slicked skin. The dementor hovered in the air surrounded by clouds of darkness. It lowered its skeletal body until its hooded face was level with the incognizant prisoner, the rattling sound of its breathing thunderous in the quiet.

Tom watched with fascination as the Dementor reached out with rotting hands, holding the prisoner’s face upwards. The angle prevented them from seeing, but it didn’t stop the sounds from traveling. The auror had turned away, shaking, as did Lucius, but Tom’s eyes were pinpointed on the pair until the prisoner’s dying moans finally ceased.

The creature of darkness released its kill. The darkness surrounding its form seemed to expand as it rose in the air, motionless.

“Merlin!” The auror hissed in fright. His patronus had blinked out of existence, gone in wisps of silver.

“My Lord,” Lucius urged, but Tom ignored him as the Dementor suddenly turned its head.

But it was not gazing at them. Instead, it was gazing down a corridor, drenched completely in darkness.

Soon, the faint sounds of footsteps were heard, becoming louder and louder until a cloaked figure entered the room. The wizard or Tom assumed it was assumed wizard, did not wear the standard uniform belonging to the aurors or any ministry station. Instead, he was covered entirely in shadowy black robes, almost similar to that of the Dementors’, ragged and torn near the edges. A hooded mask also covered the features of his face. The similarities between the two figures were chilling. They could have been twins if not for the way the wizard walked on solid ground and the darkness that floated around the Dementor.

Opposite of him, the Demented remained stationed, it's own moth eaten robes billowing around its skeletal form in a cloud of death and misery. At its feet was the crumpled body of its victim, the dead wizard's eyes staring blankly into the ether.

Tom stood mesmerized, partly horrified, mostly excited, as the Dementor started to float towards the wizard. And yet, the wizard did nothing but extend a glove covered hand as though he were beckoning his death.

Once the Dementor reached an arm's length distance from the wizard, it stopped as though indecisive. Its robes twisted around its lean form, the darkness churning in agitation. Tom had never seen a Dementor react this way and he was even more intrigued when the wizard then spoke to the monster.

A young male voice beckoned from under the hood, “Come now, mother.”

Everything seemed to stand still as the Dementor leaned forward, dipping closer to the wizard before it lowered its head. Tom could see the horrifying O of its mouth moving closer to the wizard who only tilted his face to meet its kiss.

Beside him, Lucius held his breath as the wizard’s hands rose, cupping the Dementor’s face. The last few inches between them were crossed.

Their lips met, the thin strips of clothing separating living flesh from the Dementor’s rot.

“Observe, my Lord…” Lucius breathed in wonder.

When their mouths met, a glow grew in the Dementor’s chest, echoes of misery like howls of the wind slicing through the air. Tom couldn’t help but flinch even as his companions fell to their knees. The sound became piercing then turned into screaming, the bright glow traveling up the path of the Dementor’s throat and passing through their connected mouths.

The screaming continued around them, the Dementor’s darkness encompassing both wizard and monster.

This happened three more times before the wizard released the Dementor which floated higher from the ground. A ghastly hand shaped limb seemed to stroke the top of the boy’s hair before the Dementor floated away.

“Thank you,” the wizard murmured, pressing gloved fingers to where his mouth would be. And then he collapsed on his knees, catching himself on his hands as he gasped loudly.

Before he realized what he was doing, Tom was taking long strides to him.

“My Lord!” came Lucius’ shocked gasp, but he ignored it, pulling out his wand and aiming at the unaware wizard before him.

The petrified spell bounced off some invisible shield before the wizard even glanced up. The wizard’s head snapped up, the dark hood falling away to reveal a young, beautiful face.

Tom came to an abrupt halt, astonished and wide eyed as he gazed at the kneeling wizard. He had brilliant green eyes, the color seemed to glow in the dim light. His young countenance was framed by wild, inky dark hair. The bottom portion of his mask had been pulled away, revealing the boy’s enticing soft lips.

The Dark Lord had raised his arm in preparation for another spell, but the incantation had died on his lips at the revelation of the wizard’s face. Lucius caught up to him, daring to tug his arm out of position.

The wizard was a boy. No, not a boy… but only just barely. He couldn't have been older than seventeen… He was beautiful, even as he stared in confusion at the Dark Lord… Beautiful… and he had kissed a Dementor with no ill effects.

“Why would you do that?” The boy quarried with a tilt of his head. The tone was curious, almost innocent in nature. It shook the daze that had befallen the Dark Lord, his grip subconsciously relaxing around his wand.

“You kissed a Dementor and you are still alive,” Tom stated in a flat tone.

The young wizard seemed surprised, looking down at his glove covered hands. “So I am,” came the reply. He looked at Tom again then said, “I shall do so again on the morrow.”

“Apologies!” Lucius stepped forward, bowing low. The auror hung back, watching with wide eyes.

Lucius then turned to his master, explaining in hushed tones but still loud enough for both to hear, “This… fine young man is part of the Order of Hades… the Dementors are part of their study and so… are privy to their secr-” Lucius screamed against the cruciatus curse that ripped through his body.

He collapsed to his knees in agony, screams tearing from his throat.

The young wizard had drifted closer, coming to Tom's side, gazing down at the writhing body.

“That looks painful,” he absently observed, fingers tapping against his pink lips.

He glanced at Tom, an inquisitive look in his eyes. His gaze was all innocent curiosity, wide eyed and Tom couldn’t distinguish whether it was a mask or the boy’s true nature.

The younger wizard seemed to shrug, eyes watching the violent twitches of the convulsing body, gaze becoming hazy in thought. He remarked offhandedly to Tom, “You shouldn't do that.”

Tom would normally not tolerate being given commands by anyone, especially some teenager that looked young enough to still attend Hogwarts. But Lucius had been wary of the boy despite the non hostile attitude he was giving. It also didn’t help that this entire interaction was just overall… strange...

“I am his chosen master, it is my right to punish or reward,” Tom instead said curtly.

This seemed to startle the youth who had continued to watch Lucius’ torture with some fascination. “Oh. Oh, no,” he objected, “I meant casting spells at me.” Tom stared at him in disbelief, and partly interest. When the wizard caught his staring, he remarked, “Mother wouldn't like it, if she saw.”

“That creature couldn't have been your mother,” Tom said in disbelief.

“I'm sorry, his screaming is rather loud,” The younger wizard said and covered his ears. Lucius’ torture was not worth whatever information he could get from this boy. He canceled the curse, Lucius’ screams dying down to pained whimpers.

The boy’s hands lowered slowly as though the screaming would start again. He glanced around the room and seeing nothing, said, “Of course she's not my mother, that's just what we like to call them.”

“How do you know it's not a he? I didn't see any distinguishing gender traits.” Tom played along.

The boy grinned a bright smile as though Tom’s question was just the right one he was waiting to hear. “I know because she didn't answer when I called her father. A rare beauty, she is, there's not many mothers but that's what she is.”

Then he suddenly looked up, the shadow of another Dementor, or perhaps the same one, passing above them. He made a soft sound, a curious mix of exasperation and amusement, before turning his gaze back to the Dark Lord.

“A pleasure, sir.” The young wizard dipped into a parody of a bow. “I have work. I shall, perhaps, see you again, or never?”

He turned away, hands pulling the dark hood over his head once again. Before he could escape, Tom’s hand shot out to grasp a thin wrist. His hand had slipped into the space between the sleeve and glove, touching deathly cold skin.

“What is your name?” Tom demanded. It was illogical, but for some reason, he felt that as long as he was given the boy's name, that he would be able to find him no matter what. The thought of leaving Azkaban without the boy's name left him breathless in dread.

Even though the hood obscured the boy’s face, he could feel his eyes glued to the sight of Tom’s hand upon his skin. The hooded face angled to his face, and a cheerful voice answered. “You may call me Harry.”

The Dark Lord was left surrounded by darkness with Lucius by his feet. His fingers were so cold from the boy’s skin that they burned. He couldn’t help but remember the way the boy’s… Harry’s… undoubtedly soft lips had curved into a bright smile, lips that had touched those of a Dementor’s.

He couldn’t help wanting to know what death tastes like, imagining the soft press of Harry’s lips against his.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Voldemort returns to Azkaban for a second attempt to engage the Dementors as allies. He will not fail even when he's haunted by the image of a boy receiving the Kiss.

By the next time Tom was able to return to the prison, several weeks had already passed. He had been busy with recruits, the training of his growing Death Eaters, as well as his own plans and research. Tom delegated what he could, but even so, there was still so much work that was to be done.  
  
The days since meeting Harry had passed swiftly, but his nights were always restless and his sleep, haunted. He couldn't stop thinking about the boy. Harry’s glove covered hands caressing the hooded face of the skeletal monster, the loving way that he had tipped his face towards Death, and the familiar ease in which he met the Dementor’s approach... Tom had never felt so captivated.  
  
His moniker was Voldemort. He had chosen the name to symbolize Death’s inability to lay claim on him. Tom, or Lord Voldemort, would always be out of Death’s reach. And yet, this young wizard, this boy named Harry, did not flee from death, did not even seem to fear it. He seemed so unaware that the Dementors could harm him, that the very act he performed was the nightmare of so many.  
  
That's why he couldn't get the boy out of his mind.  
  
The next time he went to Azkaban, he didn't even need to search for his target.  
  
The side that the boat docked to was facing the eastern wall of Azkaban. The new auror that accompanied him had taken one look at the fortress, gaze crawling up the wall, an astonished “What the…” slipping from his lips.  
  
On the high walls of the prison was a small assembly of Dementors. At the distance they were, it looked like a swarm of dark clouds, shifting ominously. It looked like they were orbiting around something, the dark hooded bodies swaying in the air. The auror was clearly apprehensive, but not Tom. Tom was excited.  
  
Leaving the boat and their cargo of prisoners, Tom forced the auror to lead him to the top of the walls. The door that they had to pry open had made an unforgiving screech but had eventually given way with stuttering shudders.

At the very top, Tom was pleased to find that his assumptions were correct.  
  
He could only see the back of his head but there he was. Harry sat on top of the very high iron walls of the prison, long legs swinging thoughtlessly in the air hundreds of feet above the ground. He was facing the ocean, but it was difficult to see him through the mass of Dementors that surrounded him. He was their focal point, the sun that they orbited around.

It was surreal, watching them drift leisurely around the boy. It almost looked like they were dancing… some menacing imitation of what dancing was supposed to be. Instead of the graceful twirls and confident steps of lithe bodies coming together and pulling apart, their skeletal forms swayed and twisted in supernatural grace. The lazy tendrils of their robes followed in their wake and shadows that engulfed their bodies created swirling dark clouds around them. Their rotted hands reaching out as they spun and turned, skimming across Harry’s hair, side, back, or hands.  
  
Harry also reached out to them, hands outstretched and fingertips brushing against the torn strips of cloth that trailed after the Dementors.  
  
The auror stayed by the entryway, his wolf patronus shuffling on its paws, ears laid flat against its head. He was a lot braver than the previous imbecile, more seasoned in dealing with the occupants of Azkaban but still extremely wary.  
  
“I’m gonna go… unload the batch of prisoners…” The auror mumbled, as though worried the Dementors would hear and turn on them.  
  
Tom never let his eyes leave the cloud of Dementors, but he said in a tone that was pure Dark Lord, “No. You are to stay here.”  
  
Voldemort had never been able to conjure a patronus. The memories that required that specific spell were like sand slipping through his fingers. It was irritating, but it only encouraged Tom to be a better wizard, a master of spells so that he wouldn’t need to rely on some spell induced guardian.  
  
Still, it made moments like these difficult. He needed a way to interact with the Dementors and as far as he knew, these creatures had no loyalties and only fed and fed and fed. They were gluttons, feeding on souls and their victim's memories, forever trying to satiate the ravenous hunger that would never be satisfied. He refused to become one of their victims… He was Lord Voldemort, and he was going to change the world.  
  
But for now, he needed that one small, stepping stone.  
  
And he was staring right at it… Him, to be precise. Harry. He wanted him, more so because Tom’s hunger for knowledge and clarity of the obscure would not let him abandon the boy without learning as much as he could. But what a beautiful piece, the boy was. His entanglements with those that Voldemort was seeking to ally had only fortified his growing interest in the boy.  
  
Tom wanted to approach him, but with so many Dementors acting as his entourage, it was too risky.  
  
_What a conundrum_ , Tom mused, but he couldn't find it in himself to be annoyed. How could he be? This was only his second encounter with the mysterious boy and just like the first, it was so out of the norm that he found it almost… refreshing.  
  
Amongst the loud clamor of the monsters’ breathing, he could hear faint singing. It was coming from the boy, the words off key and quiet, but loud enough that Tom could feel the delight in which he sang. It disrupted the almost synchronized rattling from the Dementors, the human voice mixing in some perverse composition of dead and living.  
  
One of the Dementors drifted and dipped just low enough that Tom subconsciously held his breath, almost certain that he would witness another Kiss. To his disappointment, Harry’s hand only stroked the bony protrusions of the creature’s chest before his attention was caught by another. The Dementor whirled in place, the moment broken as it continued its way.  
  
Tom hadn’t realized his heart had started to beat hard until then. He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath to gather calm. The next time he opened them, his heartbeat skyrocketed when he saw two, then three, of the Dementors had drifted out of the circle. Instead, they were facing him like motionless sentries.  
  
Dementors didn't have eyes, but he could feel the weight of their focus on him. The wind tugged at their forms, the clouds of darkness swirling around them, first subtly then flourishing in size and motion. His vision tunneled, the world shrinking down to just those three menacing figures.  
  
He could hear a sharp sound, so faint in his ears. It started out faint but only increased in volume. It was high pitched and shrill, piercing really… it was making his head start to ache.  
  
Then it stopped and he staggered back into the auror who was a shuddering mess against the entrance, white knuckles clenched so hard around his wand.  
  
The wolf patronus was snarling, large white jaws snapping viciously at the Dementors.  
  
By then, all the Dementors had slowed until they were just floating, suspended apparitions in the air. Even the rattling that emanated from them had stopped, and Harry’s voice rose above the silence with clarity. They were all facing Tom, the heavy weight of their focus multiplied in intensity.  
  
Harry paused, the dark head tilting to the side in curiosity before the boy looked at the still forms. He turned his head, following the Dementors’ line of sight.  
  
Tom could see the surprise in that small form, but none were more surprised as he when Harry tugged on the closest Dementor’s robes. The Dementor did nothing to acknowledge the bid for attention, but something must have happened while they were all frozen in a strange standoff.  
  
The Dementors started to shake, almost vibrating in place. The rattling started up again, low like a bee’s buzzing then growing fierce and loud. In tandem, their gazes shifted, bodies turning the direction Harry’s body was facing towards the ocean. Then they shot off, a dark cloud of decay and death towards the direction where their inadequate boat was hitched, filled with fresh prisoners.  
  
Two had flown past Harry’s head, the shadows grazing his hair as they left. Harry only leaned forward to watch, almost dangerously so that it caused a spine chilling tingle to shoot through Tom’s body.  
  
Harry was alone now, legs bouncing against the wall as his fell into a more harmonious humming.  
  
The urge to leave was circumvented by the desire to finally reach out to the boy. It was the perfect opportunity, there were no Dementors in sight. The wolf patronus had stopped snarling, confused that it's enemies had departed so abruptly.  
  
“Harry.” He said clearly, as he took his first steps towards the boy.  
  
The humming stopped, the boy finally turning his head to face him. A dark mask covered the lowered section of his face, hiding the smart mouth that Tom couldn’t stop thinking of whenever he thought of the boy. In the light of the outdoors, Tom was able to get a much better look at him.  
  
His mind had always filled in the bits and pieces of what Harry had looked like when they first met, but he knew these little replacements were imagined.  
  
He was a lot paler than Tom recalled, though it was not an unhealthy pallor. If anything, it looked like his skin was luminescent and pearly smooth as though his skin was suffused with moonlight. Tom wondered if his skin would be just as cold as when he first touched it and if so… why?  
  
But the one thing he recalled and this had been seared into his mind, were the green of Harry’s eyes.  
  
He knew that green anywhere, had often been enamored by the flash whenever he released the Avada Kedavra at his target.  
  
The color of death... So beautiful, and the owner of such eyes was even more so.  
  
“It’s you.” He could see Harry’s smile even through the mask, the boy’s eyes rounding in pleasure when he caught sight of Tom. “I hadn’t expected… Well, hello.”  
  
“Hello,” Tom replied simply, stepping closer as though what had occurred moments ago had not shaken him as badly as it did. “Where have your… protectors... gone?”  
  
He came to a stop a few feet away from where the boy was sitting, placing his hand on the cool surface beneath his hands.  
  
“Protectors…” Harry mused, “That’s a first.” His fingers twitched, the gloved fingers tapping just a few feet away from where Tom’s were. “Well, I suppose it makes sense. This is a prison, isn’t it?”  
  
The boy didn’t even wait for Tom to answer before he contradicted himself. “Actually, no.” He nodded to himself, a smile curling his lips. “It was actually a home! Place?”  
  
“Very good,” Tom praised, “Belonging to the sorcerer, Ekrizdis, who lured muggles and wizards to the island for nefarious reason...”  
  
Harry scoffed to himself, maybe his choice of wording was amusing, but Tom continued on, “It wasn’t until he died th-”  
  
A wordless snarl cut off his response, and it surprised Tom so much that he didn’t realize he had stepped back and defended himself, his wand pressed against the boy’s sternum.  
  
“Don’t! Lie.” The boy snapped. He stared at the boy whose face was contorted in anger even with Tom’s wand pressed so close to his heart.  
  
“What?” Tom demanded, his mouth a hard line of displeasure.  
  
_Stupid, insolent boy!_  
  
Then Harry blinked at him in confusion after taking in Tom’s own expression of anger and bewilderment. “Oh. You think he’s dead, you truly believe so.”  
  
And just as the mood had so abruptly changed around them, it did so, almost leaving Tom dizzy with how absurd the conversation was proceeding.  
  
“He is dead,” Tom replied curtly. His ire was still prickling in his skin, but he forced it to subside. _Harry was the key_ , he reminded himself.  
  
“Are you delusional?” Tom couldn’t help but demand in all seriousness.  
  
Then Harry glanced down at Tom’s wand, eyebrows raising in surprise. His lips twitched into an amused smirk. “You’re the one holding me hostage with a stick.”  
  
He glanced back at Tom’s face, who was staring at him aghast. “Nevermind,” Harry dismissed, putting space between them as he scooted a foot away. Tom lowered his wand somewhat reluctantly but cradled the slender wood in his hands.  
  
Harry then seemed to sigh resentfully, hunching over slightly, and that tingle of danger shot through Tom’s body again. _Merlin,_ Tom swore to himself, j _ust get off the damn wall._  
  
He refused to save the boy if he went tumbling over the edge, he was not a savior. _That auror better have quick reflexes_ , his mind snarled.  
  
“I guess that’s one way to put it,” Harry reluctantly agreed. He leaned even further over the edge. It made Tom grit his teeth in irritation until he caught sight of the mirth dancing in Harry’s green eyes.  
  
“Am I putting you on edge?” Harry wondered, stretching out a foot over the vastness of empty space.  
  
“No,” Tom instead snapped. “I just refuse to save your sorry arse if you decide to become a smear of bloody pulp at the bottom.”  
  
It had been a while since Tom could freely speak to someone who did not fear it. Fear was good, but his interactions with Harry were inspiring even when they were a disaster. He expected the boy to become offended, but Harry only smiled, replying with a wistful “Ah, to die.”  
  
He leaned back, shoving himself upright so he was on his feet. He wobbled precariously on the wall, the edge of his robe caught under a boot. The pull of the cloth gave way, tearing another strip into his ragged clothing.  
  
It looked like he would topple over, but then he was on the ground. Tom would forever deny the relief he felt upon seeing the boy’s feet on the ground.  
  
Harry pulled the lower mask away, smiling as he said, “I’m not ready to meet Hades yet.”  
  
Oh yes, the Order of which he was a part of.  
  
“Is that the true goal of every member in your Order?” Tom pondered after he got his more negative emotions under control. He didn’t expect an answer. Lucius had told him the group was extremely private, so he was surprised when Harry actually answered, “Yes.”  
  
Then Harry leaned back against the wall, peeking over and trying to catch a glimpse of the Dementors. “It’s everyone's true goal, regardless of being in OH. Order of Hades? Isn’t that a mouthful to say…” He muttered to himself, the words inaudible but the tone bitter. “Why make it so difficult, we need a new name.”  
  
“You are very strange,” Tom commented. The words seemed to snap the boy out of his monologue. It didn’t offend him, instead, it seemed to brighten his mood.  
  
“So are you,” the boy dared to say. “For a living person.”  
  
Tom was at a loss for words, even when the boy turned back towards him, regarding him with curious eyes.  
  
Eventually, Tom decided to just cut to the chase. His interactions with Harry was full of so many blunders and missteps, perhaps blunt honesty would be more sufficient.  
  
“I am the Dark Lord Voldemort,” Tom introduced himself.  
  
Harry only tilted his head in acknowledgment. Tom narrowed his eyes, scrutinizing every muscle for a hint of recognition. Harry blinked at him innocently.  
  
“I am searching for the Rex,” he said bluntly, “the King of the Dementors.”  
  
“You’re not from the Ministry,” Harry stated, but Tom did not falter nor break eye contact. He could hear the auror protest behind him, no doubt trying to trick the boy into believing that perhaps Tom really was. He pinned the auror with a glare promising death if he even so much as tried uttering another word.  
  
Didn't he _see_? Harry was not an ordinary boy. Perhaps it was easy to forget that since he looked so young and had a boyish charm about him, but Tom could never forget. Not the Kiss he had been witness to, nor the way the Dementors had danced around him just now.  
  
“No, I am not,” Tom openly agreed with the boy.  
  
He was rewarded with another one of those bright smiles, even a relaxing of the boy’s posture.  
  
“Good,” Harry seemed to mumble to himself, but loud enough that Tom could hear. “I was considering all the ways to escape if you were.” He eyed the wall. “Probably over the wall.”  
  
“What?” Tom demanded. _What an absurd boy!_  
  
Harry shrugged, admitting “I don’t like the Ministry.” He turned to level a glare at the auror. “They always seek me out and I always give them quite a merry chase through the halls of Azkaban.”  
  
Tom turned to the auror, raising an eyebrow in question.  
  
The auror met Harry’s gaze with a grimace. “True enough.” His eyes flicked to the side, crossing his arms as he admitted it. “It’s either make contact with the Hades boy or risk losing a few men whenever we come by. Those things are rarely put in check, sometimes sucking out a soul or two if a fellow ain’t careful enough.”  
  
Harry rolled his eyes, “Then I have to intervene and deal with the Mothers, Fathers, Brothers, and Sisters when they start getting upset.”  
  
Tom found Harry’s apparent disdain amusing. The way he seemed more put off with disgruntled Dementors than the damage they caused was just surreal. Tom wasn't the least surprised when the boy’s blasé attitude caused the auror to lose his patience.  
  
“I don’t know what kind of _freak_ you are,” the auror spat, “But those things eat their _souls_ , you hear me, boy? You give them some damn respect-”  
  
“Silence!” Tom hissed, leveling his wand at the auror. “You will not dare-”  
  
“Freak.” Harry was staring at the auror, wide eyes. His cheeks were tinted with a slight pink flush, but it was not embarrassment that colored the next words. "A new name."  
  
“An insult.” Tom clarified with a dangerous glare. Merlin, he should have left the idiot on the boat to deal with the prisoners. He would have cast a crucio on the fool that would even dare ruin his attempts to win the boy’s favor to his side. But Harry didn’t seem phased at all, just looking at the auror with that strange wide eyed look.  
  
“No, I’ll add it to the list of my names. It's the first given to me by a wizard,” Harry said eventually.  
  
“You said your name is Harry,” Tom turned his attention to him.  
  
The flush had receded leaving his skin milky white. The boy hesitated, pretty lips mouthing the words Tom had spoken before nodding once, then shaking his head negative. His eyebrows narrowed in thought before he nodded again.  
  
“Maybe.” Harry decided on saying.  
  
“It is or it isn't,” Tom said in a clipped tone. This roller coaster of emotions was making him irritable, and an irritable Dark Lord tended to be trigger happy with spells. He eyed the auror, wondering if the effects would be that obvious.  
  
Those green eyes turned to his, inquisitive.  
  
“That's not all there is.” Harry refuted as though offended. “Many people have many names. You have several, why must I only have one?”

That caught Tom’s attention.  
  
“I was not aware that you knew of me,” Tom said, returning his attention to this curious creature. His title and name had such little reaction with the younger boy that it had caused a ripple of dissatisfaction in him. Tom was pleased to find out that he was known to him after all.  
  
“Not much. Only what the dead call you.” Harry clarified with a shrug, “Voldemort. He Who Courts Death… My favorite is Death Seeker.”  
  
“Death Seeker… Who would call me that and why?” Tom questioned, now intrigued.  
  
The boy hummed briefly, dismissing the auror by crossing his arms, one hand against his pale cheek. He tapped a finger slowly against his jaw, green eyes scrutinizing the Dark Lord.  
  
Tom spread his arms apart as though presenting himself to the boy. One corner of Harry’s mouth quirked up in amusement.  
  
“You try so hard to evade death,” Harry answered after some thought. “It’s only logical that it'll come for you even more. Maybe it’ll be like a game.”  
  
This made him uneasy, as though Death itself was listening in on their conversation. A breeze with a cold bite passed through, tugging on their robes and hair. He could feel the sting of it through his thick robes. Harry seemed unaffected though he leaned into the breeze, eyes going half lidded in bliss at the gliding of the wind through his wild hair.  
  
All thoughts of death vanished from Tom’s mind. He licked his dry lips, gaze flirting down to the boy’s pink mouth before looking away  
  
“What are your names then?” Tom deflected.  
  
The boy’s hands, busy with movement, paused.  
  
“I remember, Harry. I haven't been called that in a while, perhaps a lifetime ago...” He said, then continued, “He Whose Scent is Light… Little Shadow…” He seemed lost in thought, then snapped his fingers in triumph. “Or! There's this one, and I like this one even if it’s another long one.”  
  
He took two of his fingers and made walking motions on his forearm, then tipped them to the side. “He Who Trips on Air.” Harry grinned, “The Dementors like that the most, though they seem to like Small Moon recently.”  
  
“These are names… given by the Dementors?” Tom questioned tentatively. There were so little known about the creatures that every little bit of information from Harry’s mouth was like a polished gem, sparkling new and unique.  
  
Harry’s giddiness seemed to falter, just a tiny bit. “Some,” he replied solemnly.  
  
“Dementors can’t speak.” The auror interjected. Tom had forgotten he was even there, so caught up in his unusual conversation with the boy.  
  
Before Harry could even offer a retort, Tom snapped, “Leave us. See to the prisoners.”  
  
The auror muttered wordlessly to himself but gladly left, taking his silent patronus with him. Tom watched them go, shredding the bit of unease that gnawed at his consciousness. The patronus was the only reason the auror had accompanied him. Now, he was left alone with a boy who most likely considered the Dementors his friends, if not allies, and Tom had little to no defense against them.  
  
A soft touch at his elbow caught his attention.  
  
Harry was gazing at him with a thankful smile. It made his features looked softer. “That's why I give them a chase. Now, you should come with me.”  
  
Tom stared at the smiling boy, trying to get a hint of what he could be thinking about. He considered using the Legilimency spell. It was almost too tempting, but he didn't want to risk causing any animosity between them.  
  
Harry’s smile was sweet and so welcoming, a lovely contrast to the anger that contorted his face. It had only been minutes since the boy accused him of lies, why did it feel as though it were days? The sharpness of his words and the angry sparks in his green eyes were blurred and half forgotten, as though Harry’s good mood with him was all that mattered now.  
  
“Come,” Harry beckoned, insistently. “You want to meet the Rex, isn't that correct?”  
  
He brushed past the Dark Lord, passing so close that Tom caught a hint of the boy’s scent.  
  
He wanted more of it.  
  
He caught the boy around the waist. He hadn't even realized he was going to do it until he had Harry in his arms.  
  
He couldn't help smirking at the squeak of surprise that came from the boy. Harry threw him off way too often that he felt smug in this single moment.  
  
Harry’s hands were pressed against his chest. His lean body solid but instead of warmth, Tom felt coolness. He expected the boy to smell of rot, decay, and death, but he did not. Instead, he smelled fresh and clean, like winter air, the kind that was sharp enough to cut. Tom’s eyes dipped to the soft pink lips before catching his prey’s eyes, making his intent clear.  
  
“That’s not all I want,” he murmured low. Harry really was lovely, and even more so with his eyes grown wide, stunned, blinking slowly as though Tom’s words were difficult to process. Then the gaze grew blank, just for a strange second, before they flickered back to life in the next blink.  
  
Harry smiled at him again, easy and just a hint of a flirtatious edge. His hands stroked upwards, settling on Tom’s broad shoulders. Tom was mesmerized by him, their gazes fused together. Tom was captivated by the varying hues and shades that made them unique.  
  
“Is that what you want? A kiss?” Harry murmured in reply. He had the boy pressed close against him, their chests bumping as Tom leaned closer into his space. Their mouths seemed to gravitate towards the other, or at least, Tom’s was gravitating towards Harry’s. Like the Dementors that surrounded him, Tom had been pulled in and held captive to the boy’s presence.  
  
He felt his eyes drift close as did Harry’s, the last few inches between their lips being crossed.  
  
He felt smooth leather instead of the softness of Harry’s lips. He pulled back, confused, his mind a jumble of _what_?  
  
Harry had placed two fingers over his mouth, that teasing smile still curving that mouth he wanted to feel with his own.  
  
“Another time,” Harry brushed his cheek, before pulling away. “The Rex is waiting.” He took hold of Tom’s hand, saying, “Hold onto me. We don‘t want any nasties taking a bite of you now, do we?”  
  
Tom shook himself from his daze, feeling indignation at the implication that he couldn't protect himself. Another part of his mind was snarling about being denied, but the word Rex quickly silenced it. It was what he had wanted, after all. He pursed his lips, displeased and in a state of contrary wants, but the Rex was his primary goal, at least for now.  
  
The boy had thrown him off again in that irritating but enticing way off his.  
  
“I have my wand,” Tom said curtly, and yet he didn't release Harry’s hand. “I can obliterate anything that shows itself to be a threat. I will protect us.”  
  
Such brave words even though he couldn't cast a patronus. Even still, he was willing to dip into his extensive knowledge of Dark Arts if need be. He had strength and power, there was no way he was going to look weak in front of Harry.  
  
Harry’s eyes did that strange thing again. If Tom hadn't seen it before, he may have just dismissed itself as an odd quirk, but the blankness was strange in such an animated and already strange person.  
  
“No,” Harry admonished gently. His smile changed even though this lips remained in that enticing curve… It was not a smile at all, but something hollow. “You really can’t.”  
  
Tom raised his wand anyway, red eyes flashing in defiance.  
  
Harry simply laughed, the sound jovial as it echoed through the empty hallways. “Come along, Dark Lord Voldemort. Your destiny awaits.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Goodness, the amount of comments and kudos this story got left me reeling and so happy. Thank you guys so much :D I will try to update as often as I can, I generally have an idea where this is going so :x 
> 
> I may end up putting some drawings up for this, I'm not crazy fond of my drawings but I somehow ended up with a decent image of what the Rex in this story looks like. Even if it does go up, it wouldn't be for a while since its a specific scene in mind x.x
> 
> Any comments/kudos will receive my <3! Thanks for reading :D


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry leads the Dark Lord to the Rex and the journey is not at all what Tom expects it to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just want to mention, this story rating will go up. Most likely due to explicit sex scenes in the future. This chapter did nooot go the way I expected but I'm pretty happy with it.

Harry led him back inside the prison, passing through the open cell blocks that did or did not have prisoners. The prisoners they did encounter were huddled shells of their former selves, unaware of their passing. They were barely human, their gazes blank and staring.

He allowed the boy to tug him along, holding the smaller gloved hand in his while his other hand held the yew wand ready to cast.

Inside, it was just as it was during his previous visit to Azkaban. The hallways and cells were meticulously clean, illuminated by the dim light burning from lanterns. There were open cells with small narrow windows, most likely an attempt to brighten the place up, but was only a grim reminder of what Azkaban really was -- a prison. Only cloudy dark skies peeked from the narrow windows.

There were Dementors freely moving about, not in any particular rotation or patrol, but just going where they pleased. There was no order, no schedule, just the passing of dark figures, sometimes swooping close enough to feed off a whimpering prisoner, other times just for its own fancy. There weren’t a lot, not at first, but the deeper he followed the mysterious boy, the more Dementors there seemed to be.

Fortunately, none of those creatures they encountered ever seemed to turn Tom’s way, though Harry was a different story. Not all paid the boy attention as they passed, but more often than not, a hooded head would slowly turn as though being pulled by gravity or one of the creatures would sway just a little bit closer as though they were caught by a receding tide back to the ocean.

To Tom’s relief, none followed as Harry continued to lead. He had tried to memorize the path they were taking, but the stark hallways and endless unfurnished rooms were just one blur of motion with nothing to tell them apart. Tom made a mental note to acquire a map or perhaps the schematics of the prison. If he was to ally with the creatures, it would certainly help to know their domain. Knowledge was power, after all, and he didn’t ever want to be in a situation where he was lost in the maze that was Azkaban with Dementors nibbling at his essence.

Tom didn’t really fear the Dementors. He just didn’t like that he couldn’t beat them, couldn’t obliterate them if they posed a threat although he would certainly try. So what to do with a possible unknown piece in the game where the wizarding world was the prize?

The enemy of my enemy is my friend, indeed. One would assume that the Dementors would be his enemies since they were on acceptable terms with the Ministry.

Tom didn’t see it that way.

To the Wizarding population, Dementors were the nightmares at night, the boogeymen hiding in closets and under beds. And yet, almost everyone treated them liked chained dogs, domesticated… under the Ministry’s control. But there were no offices in the Ministry, no official title that came with underlings. There was just Azkaban and even that was only a farce. Azkaban and a tenuous truce between Dementors and Wizard-kind.

Somehow, the Minister decades ago had been able to barter a truce with the Rex.

Tom wanted more than a truce.

He saw a possible ally, one that was grossly underestimated which didn’t make much sense since Dementors were capable of rendering a wizard comatose or cowering just by their mere presence alone. Then again, people were often lazy and liked to dismiss what was right in front of them if they believed they were so blessed.

He had looked back once, wary of the Dementors, only to find the latest one had turned in their direction. It was easily one of the most unnerving experiences Tom had ever had, to be the focus of those creatures who watched him without even having eyes to see.

Dementors did not have eyes… the hood covered their entire head and flowed into one dark mass of torn and moth bitten bits around its skeletal form. Where the eyes would be were dark, sunken grooves. No one had seen what was beneath the cloth if there was even something there in the first place. The closer one got to a Dementor, the closer that person was to death. Lethal, deadly creatures made of dark magic, the only interest their anatomy had garnered from the wizarding world was to determine if there was a way to destroy them.

Nothing had been found thus far. It was this fact that made Tom vigilant, just shy of paranoia. Every movement the creatures made was taken in, calculated, and studied.

“This way, this way,” Harry almost sang. He threw a grin over his shoulder, seemingly unperturbed by their surroundings.

Tom felt like his face had frozen into a permanent grimace and he gave Harry one of those stoic looks, flat and unamused. Harry’s grin didn't falter, only seemed to widen as his eyes shifted over Tom’s shoulder. He then raised a small hand, giving a jaunty wave. Tom felt a prickle of unease, and turning his head, saw that he had spoken too soon. Two Dementors trailed after them steadily, slowly weaving in and out of each other’s paths, the torn ends of their clothing swirling behind them.

The firm, unamused line of his mouth became even more so as he turned back. Tom was intent on ignoring them, but he could feel the cold of their presence at his back

Then unexpectedly, the large hallway opened into a large sprawling courtyard. He was so distracted by the new environment that he almost ran into the boy.

“Here we are,” Harry murmured with a happy sigh. He turned to Tom with an easy smile. Tom hadn't realized how tense the boy actually was until that moment. They had only met once previously so it was difficult to make sense of the boy’s quirks and motivations. But here, whatever chaotic tension he was carrying seemed to just flow right out of him.

The courtyard was large and stretched out, touching each side of the inner walls that made up Azkaban. A large, lonely fountain sat at the center of it all, the water long since dried out. There were naked trees standing guard all throughout and accompanied by equally bare bushes and dirt filled pots.

Above them was the cloudy open sky with only the looming walls surrounding them.

If they were anywhere else, the courtyard would have looked at home in any of the ostentatious pureblood manors that boasted of luxury and beauty. Instead, it was a dark, dead place, belonging to inhabitants that had no eye or use for beauty.

But still, Harry led him into the courtyard with reverence. He was light on his feet and although he wasn’t tense, he was clearly excited.

Harry started to casually talk as soon as they entered and Tom listened while partially distracted.

“Most people don’t know this, but the place people normally refer to as Azkaban isn’t really Azkaban.” Harry told him, matter of fact. He gestured back from where they had entered, to the clean walls and dirt free paths.

“It wasn’t always a fortress, but it was protected like one. It's master made his home very… welcoming. It was kind of like...” He hummed in thought. “A mirage? Ships would become lost at sea, days and days circling around in the open sea, eating up their provisions and water… sometimes with sea monsters taking chase after them... then at their worst…” Harry pointed off in the distance, saying loudly, “Land ho!”

He led them towards that direction. There was something about it that was different, now that he took a good look at it. The southern wall was just as tall as the other two, but the foundation of it was not the shiny clean material that made up the prison.

“They’d dock here,” Harry gestured around them either ignoring Tom’s searching gaze or too engrossed in telling his story. “If their ship hadn't already been wrecked in some storm… And most of them would see one lonely little man with so much wealth.” He shook his head as though disappointed by these fictional people. “Not gold or whatever, but it was a huge dwelling, food… resources, pretty much heaven after the hell they went through.”

They had just reached the fountain. Tom was able to glance into it. It was indeed bone dry, but it was far from empty. Crushed bones and skulls lay dormant at the bottom, the gleaming bone shining like polished pearls. His eyes grew very wide indeed, there were so many…

Harry caught his eye, raising a brow in question before looking at the fountain. He shrugged and tugged them away, leaving Tom with a sense of disquiet as he followed. He kept his eyes trained resolutely on the boy now.

Around them, the air was growing colder with the setting sun. The shadows by their feet stretched across the ground. He could feel the wind pick up, the chill penetrating the thick layers of his clothing, stealing warmth from his body.

Harry continued the story unperturbed by the chill. His tone became subdued though the words remained playful. “So they came and settled, happy and blessed to find a haven from the sea, the wrathful sea. They thought they would die, eaten by sea serpents, krakens, and other monsters they had no names for. They hadn't realized that while running from these monsters, they ran into one themselves. No one saw the monsters under the bed… or well, basement in this case.”

His voice lowered drastically. “No one, until Ekrizdis made them into monsters himself.” He swung his free arm in vicious slashing motions as his voice grew dark and low. Tom watched him with a type of amused horror as Harry played out his words. “He hacked and sawed at them, twisted and took apart everything they were before throwing them back together, with some parts missing.” The boy paused dramatically and then leaned forward into Tom’s space.

He spoke directly into Tom’s ear. “There was so much misery, so much crying, and cursing… and… so much… death.”

Tom shivered, though he couldn't say for sure if it was from the boy’s words or his proximity. Either case was worthy of the reaction.

Harry fell silent though he remained where he was, invading Tom’s personal space. A warm breath of air, then another whisper, “Is this turning you on?”

Tom reared back in indignation, but not before Harry gave a little teasing nip to his ear. His hand tugged hard in Harry’s grip, but the boy only tightened his hold, bringing their clasped hands up between them.

“No, no, Dark Lord. Don’t let go. You won’t like it if you do.” Harry told him. It wasn't a warning, his tone was very casual and matter of fact. Tom glowered at him, clearly showing his displeasure with a severe frown. He would never admit that his heart was racing in his chest.

The impudent boy only gave him a sly grin. It spoke many unsaid words, but at least the boy was smart enough not to gloat. Tom could almost read the _You liked it_ in Harry’s facial expression.

“Not much further,” Harry promised a cheeky grin. They had reached the section of the courtyard that Harry had pointed to. The walls were slightly different though he couldn't tell what about it separated it from the others. It was just… aged, duller, but it throbbed with a strange magic, almost humming the closer they got.

“The mad sorcerer had his fun for decades, luring and creating his own little toys. Can you imagine how many he must have captured? Then he was gone and all that remains is… this.” Harry gestured to the direction ahead of them.

“The buildings were destroyed, except for the underground rooms. The Dementors would roam around the ruins until the Ministry rebuilt the walls and created the fortress. Where we’re about to go… This is the true Azkaban and even the Ministry wouldn’t subject their prisoners to what lies within. There are things there that like to play… that need to play more than they need to eat.” He tilted his head, eyes searching Tom’s features. “Luckily for you, this is the path we must tread.”

Then he turned them around a corner, and before them stood large double doors. It loomed above them, fifteen feet tall of dark and ominous. The wood was dull but a deep dark color. Like the walls, the door itself gave off some energy, but this was more subtle and felt… cold. It was a strange feeling, to get some sensation from an inanimate object, but there was no other way to describe it.

Tom didn’t want to go near it, but Harry had walked right up to it without a shiver or reaction. His large luminous eyes gazed up at the length of dull wood as though mesmerized.

Harry laid his hand on the wood and that in itself made Tom want to protest. It was made worse when Harry pressed a pale cheek against the door, turning to Tom with a dark mischievous smile. “Welcome to true Azkaban. Now we wait.”

With their hands still entwined, Tom could do nothing but struggle to speak through the coldness that was starting to become suffocating. “For what?”

Harry smiled and gestured behind them. It was then that Tom realized he had forgotten the two Dementors that had followed them.

He turned to face then, Harry’s hand still gripping his.

Tom felt his heart stop then violently start again as adrenaline sent it racing.

Behind and above them, a large swarm of Dementors had gathered. He had thought the sun was setting, the night sky swallowing the fading sun. He had thought the chill he was feeling was natural.

He had been mistaken, it had been the Dementors blocking out the open sky. Even as he stared, the two that had followed them rose to join the spiraling swarm. More poured out from various openings from the other walls.

Soon, there was more black filling the sky with skeletal bodies performing a macabre dance than there were clouds.

“What are they doing?” Tom demanded. His hand clenched on the wand.

“Getting ready.” Harry simply replied.

They made Tom nervous, the way the swarm was moving. Even so high above them, Tom could feel the energy they gave off. It felt like a frenzy, the swirling forms undulating and slashing through the air violently. Tom inched closer to the door, his grip on Harry’s hand becoming lax when some Dementors started to descend. It almost looked like the tail of a tornado as they separated from the still gathering swarm.

The small group slowly advanced closer to them.

Tom felt threatened. He did not like the way they were moving the sinuous sliding of their bodies as they came closer.

Tom readied to defend them, just in case. He may need both hands to perform the more intricate dark arts if they chose to attack. He had a spell in mind, _sol soluti_. A cousin to the fiendfyre spell, it created creatures of light instead of fire. It was an obscure spell, and many had discarded it as useless since it both required a large amount of strength and iron clad will. There had only been a handful of wizards capable of performing it and it was more for show than use. But after learning of it, Tom pondered over its uses.

He would use it here if need be.

He shook off Harry’s hand, the need to protect himself and Harry taking precedence now that the Dementors seemed to show some sort of response. The coldness was licking at his bones now.

Immediately, he could feel his energy start to seep out of his adrenaline pumped body. His limbs started to feel heavy and his mind started to lag. He blinked in confusion, trying to clear the sudden haze that infiltrated his mind.

There were about six Dementors gathered, surrounding them in a semicircle around the closed door. The dark clouds of despair were pooled around them like a black fog.

 _Too many dementors_ , his sluggish mind slurred. The more dementors… the more effective their abilities.

Then the fogginess cleared, and Harry was holding his arm. He grabbed hold of Tom's hand and tugged viciously, jolting his body into awareness. The pressure was hard enough that he could feel the bones in his hand creak. The pain was welcomed, it only cleared the lingering tar that his clouded mind had fallen into

“Do you hear me, Dark Lord?” Harry whispered suddenly in his ear. The warm puff of his breath almost made Tom jump, instead he stumbled into the boy, digging the wand tip against Harry’s throat.

“I have enemies at my back,” Tom said or slurred out. Harry batted his wand away without a care, eyeing him with concern.

“Always,” Harry agreed, “But it's these that you’re going to want to watch out for. Deeply sorry, Dark Lord, but we mustn’t wait! Ready or not, here we go!”

The doors flung open, a howl of wind emerging from the even darker depths. There were whispers coming from the now open door.

Immediately the Dementors shot past them followed by Harry’s laughter. Tom had to dodge their flying bodies and then dropped to the ground as more poured into the door from the hovering swarm. The dark forms disappeared inside and just as the last tendril of cloth snaked into the entryway, Harry pulled Tom inside.

Tom didn't even get a chance to protest, the doors slammed shut behind them.

Once the doors shut, the lights inside these underground rooms seemed to intensify, illuminating every surface. Compared to the rebuilt sections of Azkaban, the halls here were the opposite. There was dirt and cobwebs, along with stubborn weeds breaking through the stone floors, some even climbing up the walls.

The whispers didn’t stop. Tom stood there for a moment, gathering his strength. Not a single Dementor was in sight. The murmuring voices were distracting, too many to distinguish what was being said and just low enough that Tom instinctively tried to catch the words.

“Don’t listen to them,” Harry warned him. The younger boy had been watching him inquisitively, giving him time to adjust to their new surrounding. He gave no explanation for what he said, and Tom did not ask for any. He quickly shut out the voices so they became an even lower murmur of noise, more like a buzzing that would eventually fade from his conscious thought.

Once he was able to focus, Tom could hear snarling somewhere ahead of them. The sounds of flesh being torn apart was loud in the quietness. The screeches were pained and shrill, they seared into his eardrums. He could feel the misery that had seeped into the ground and walls.

“Let's go,” Harry said in all seriousness. He stepped forward and it was only then that Tom realized the boy had released his grip on Tom’s hand. Perhaps it was no longer needed? Tom was no longer restricted by the boy’s movements, but he felt… more vulnerable now. He had to follow Harry of his own accord now that the boy’s death grip was gone.

Tom said nothing, following with wariness. The way to their destination was even more confusing, taking him down twisting corridors, and strange rooms. Some weren’t even rooms at all, but open fields or the inside of a cave, or they would walk through a door and be in the middle of a forest.

Always though, there were smears of blood, almost black from age, that were spotting the surroundings. There were no signs of struggle or even the bodies that bled the blood, but there they were. Even more alarming were the dark splotches that were freshly spilt, smelling so strongly of iron and death, it almost made Tom gag. There were smears of entrails, sometimes chunks of flesh, and denser matter that Tom normally saw on battlefields.

Harry had started humming by the third bloodstained hallway. His arms swung by his side, gloved fingers spread apart. Tom didn't recognize the tune. It both soothed and frazzled his nerves.

The Dementors, wherever they had flown were nowhere in sight but there were always disturbing sounds preceding them before it fell quiet.

Tom said nothing, just continued on high alert, his nerves singing along with Harry’s humming. Then the next scene they encountered broke Tom’s silence.

They entered what appeared to be another courtyard, or perhaps it was an underground garden. There were large patches of overgrown mushrooms, the surfaces spiked and gleaming like metal. It was then, finally, that Tom caught sight of the creatures that inhabited this strange place.

Upon the deadly points were twitching bodies of winged humanoid creatures half their size. Their eyes had been gouged out, fleshy red holes filled with gore. Here, the smell of iron was heavy and thick in the air. There were things that squished under their feet, fleshy, meaty things that made keeping a poker face so very hard to maintain.

Even more so, when Harry kept deliberately stepping on whatever was on the ground. He was like a little kid playing in puddles and the smile he threw at Tom was very deliberate.

“What is this place?” Tom demanded. He came so very close to one of the impaled bodies, eyes riveted on the trails of blood leaking from the wounds.

“Azkaban,” Harry said cheerfully. He came up to Tom’s side. “Weren’t you listening before? Monsters, I said. Don’t touch.”

Tom gave the boy a hard stare, displeased at the commanding tone. Harry met his stare with innocent green eyes, so wide and trusting. Tom was almost entirely certain that the boy was playing with him. He didn't believe for one second that Harry’s innocent smile was genuine, not when they were surrounded by death.

“You have nice hands,” Harry said after a few seconds of silence. “It would be a shame to lose them.”

The creature was dead, but Tom still cautiously moved anyway from it. This wasn't his domain, after all. The door had been alive with magic, the walls and floor saturated with it and blood. Things just didn't make sense here, and if this strange boy broke away from his rambling to give a warning, he felt that he best heed the advice.

“If it makes you feel better, we’re almost there,” Harry told him. Just as they left the gore behind them, Harry abruptly stopped. Tom, who had been cautious since they entered this… labyrinth, was fortunate not to run into him again.

Harry stood there, eyes closed as he breathed in deeply as though in a trance. It was only a few seconds but the next time he opened his eyes, he smiled.

“There.” Harry simply said. He turned around back towards the way they came and walked with sure steps back towards the gore filled room. Puzzled, Tom turned as well to follow.

Then the sounds of battle exploded around them.

Instead of the spiked bodies, there was a battlefield. It was like they had walked into an open field, a strange spike of light shedding light upon them. It bathed the entire battlefield in ultraviolet light.

The swarm of Dementors that had flown past them were here. They shone like beacons of light in the dark. He could only tell that it was them by the rattling sounds that emanated from their chests. There was a hot white glow beneath their chests, pulsing and flickering like fire. The dark billowing robes were also aglow, a soft white like moonlight. It did nothing to hide the brighter glow that illuminated the sharp bones of their ribs. There was also specks of color that dotted their robes and it covered many of their claws in the same bright glow.

They were now engaged in a war with… beings he couldn’t even recognize. He had never seen their like in all his years of travel and knowledge gathering. It wasn’t just one type of creature but many. They ranged in height and form, but all monstrous, and all hungry for violence. The only thing that all these creatures shared was that there were so many of them… So many, and yet they Dementors matched them in numbers if not strength.

There were piles and piles of bodies, torn and shredded. Recognizable limbs were strewn about, the scent of blood even thicker when compared to all the previous rooms they had passed. It was fresh and every breath he took, he felt it coat his tongue and mouth, thick and heavy in his throat whenever he swallowed.

The swift movements, almost too fast to see, between the two fighting forces, made it even harder to comprehend. There were bodies falling, dark hulking masses that roared and screamed. And the Dementors too… some fell, some vanished before his very eyes, while others screeched and twisted in the air, swooping and attacking, the essences of the opposing creatures being sucked out. Each attack was swift and ruthless, too many enemies, too many vulnerable moments for each attacking Dementor. They only attacked, quick and frequently, trying to weaken as many as they can.

They fed in quick hungry bites, essence spiraling from the many opponents into their gaping mouths. It was almost beautiful. Whatever it was they fed on shone like moonlight, glittering and precious and then quickly devoured.

Harry took a step towards the carnage, hands pulling the hood over his head. And it was only then that Tom was able to tear his eyes away and take a good look at his companion.

There was no glow, just solid blackness where Harry’s chest was. Looking down, he saw the same for himself. But he looked at his hands and they were like carved marble, luminous in the strange light. What bit of flesh he could see of Harry was also glowing in the same way.

Harry looked at him from over his shoulder. His eyes were void of any color, just a blank white. The dark pupil was an iridescent white, and the verdant green of his irises were shimmering silver. The smile he gave, coupled with the eerie blankness of his eyes, was both breathtaking and chilling.

And when the boy in front of him opened his mouth, he expected something else other than a human’s voice.

“You want to become allies with the Dementors,” Harry’s voice said, “Then come be an ally.”

He removed his gloves, dropping the leather to the ground, revealing glowing flesh. He pointed towards the battle, high in the sky towards the strange light. “The Rex, there. High above the rest, look into the light.”

And yes, now that he informed, Tom could see a large figure high in the air. He had initially missed it because the light source in… whatever this place was, made his eyes hurt when he stared too long. But the figure had moved, and was constantly moving, contributing to the fallen bodies around it.

It was large, larger than any Dementor Tom had previously seen. It wasn’t the size of its skeletal body that made it large, it was the flowing white of its robes. The color was immaculate, like pure snow and it shimmered as it swirled around the Rex. Ominous clouds rolled around where its feet would be, churning and stretching, touching both Dementors and enemies. The Dementors it touched rose in a frenzy. The enemies fell, weakened and then destroyed by the swooping Dementors.

The King of the Dementors moved with such deadly grace and speed, it made Tom’s mouth go dry. It struck like a cobra, fast and quick, ripping souls out of its enemies with barely a pause. It didn't even stop to feed, no, the Dementors surrounding it swooped in after the Rex pulled away, swallowing the souls it left in its wake. Once the souls were devoured, the bodies toppled to the ground, empty husks joining the hill of corpses.

Harry touched Tom’s shoulder with light fingers. They felt cold, even through his robes.

Their eyes locked, the alien white with his, searching for something in him, his eyes or face, for what… Tom had no idea. But whatever it was the boy was searching for, he must have found it. Harry quickly turned and without a word, ran towards the carnage with a loud laugh, the flapping torn edges of his robes so very like the Dementors.

The closest Dementors turned, one slashing through the fleshy meat of its enemy before rising back into the air. A second swooped towards Harry, zigzagging the way they tended to do. Before it reached the boy, large shining claws ripped into its body. A large maw tore into its clothing, claws scrabbling towards the glow in the Dementor’s chest. The Dementor screeched and twisted in the air before it simply vanished.

It didn't deter the boy, instead, the exhilarated scream rang loud and clear. In the distance, he could see the Rex turn it's head towards them. He could see many of the creatures the Dementors were fighting do the same.

A chorus of howls and screams pierced the air. The Rex flew high into the air, many of his Dementor brethren chasing the white of his robes.

Tom gripped his wand, and without another thought, charged after the boy into the fray.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading :) Any kudos/comments/suggestions are greatly appreciated!


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